


Marriage by Accident

by scarlettandblue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 12:23:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3120095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarlettandblue/pseuds/scarlettandblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was an accident in the Bunker and some shenanigans follow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marriage by Accident

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luxshine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxshine/gifts).



SPN XMas exchange

Marriage By Accident.

For Luxshine

Just like most things in the Men of Letters bunker, it started with a little miss-hap. 

Since he'd been marked for Cain, then a demon, then not a demon, Dean found it hard to relax, until he discovered knife throwing. It required just the right level of concentration, precision, repetition and violence to calm his nerves. 

Of course, in retrospect, he should have saved it for the shooting range. But the leather armchair was so comfortable and the wooden paneling in the back of the library was the perfect surface, and a few dusty knickknacks littering the top shelf made a great, if slightly random, target. 

Besides it was totally Sam's fault, coming back before Dean had finished, forcing him to rush those last two throws. Still an old bowl that must have already been cracked, judging by the way it split in two so cleanly as it hit the floor, and a chipped glass that no one was ever going to drink from again, even before he accidentally stepped in it, were minor casualties in Dean's book. A quick shuffle and not even Sam was going to notice any gaps,

Of course Dean was a little startled when he stepped back from dumping the broken remains in the trash, cursing as he nicked himself on the edge of the glass, to find Cas right _there_. There was no mistaking that feeling of backing into something with all the give of a brick wall. It was kind of disappointing though, because Dean had been sure they had finally cracked that whole _personal space_ thing years ago.

A noise from the doorway had both Dean and Cas turning towards Sam, who was hovering at the entrance to the kitchen like he was afraid to come in in case he interrupted them. Sam smirked and noted the lack of space separating them that left Cas' chin resting on Dean with a quirk of his eyebrow and the unhelpful comment, "You seem to have a little bit of... Cas there Dean." he brushed at his own shoulder in an exaggerated pantomime.

"You seem to have a little bit of _ass_ there, Sam." Dean mimicked back, and brushed a hand over his chin, "Oh wait, that's just YOUR FACE." He knew it was weak, but no way was his little brother having the last word...Ever. 

"Jerk!" Sam retorted.

"Bitch." Dean said back with his most charming smile and just the right level of saccharine sweetness.

"So, Cas..." Sam was clearly trying to head for the moral high-ground by ignoring Dean completely now. "Is something up, or are you just here to help Dean take out the trash?" 

Cas gave Sam's question a moment of serious thought, he shifted a little uncomfortably moving back a step so he was no longer pressed right up against Dean, then replied, "I am unsure."

"Oh really?" Sam sounded like he didn't believe a word of it. "So, no apocalyptic prophecy? No lost Angelic Weapons of Mass Destruction? No rise of a new King of Heaven or Hell? No new marks of Cain or other supernatural harbingers of death and destruction that you need us to sort out for you today?"

"I do not believe anything of that nature is occurring, Sam."

If Dean had to bet, he would lay money that Cas was seeing Sam's current Bitch-face #27 _All Angel's are dicks and it pisses me off no-end_ , and raising him an, I-am-Angel-of-the-Lord behold my passive/aggressive-mask-of-stoicism #3 _I will refrain from smiting you although it pains me greatly_. He flicked a quick glance over his shoulder, and yeah, he'd take that bet. The Sam and Cas bitch/Poker-face face-off was a go. 

But then Cas caught him looking and he stepped away from Dean altogether, and something odd passed over his face. For a moment that seemed to last forever Dean couldn't breath, couldn't speak, couldn't think, then the feeling was gone and it was just Cas watching him with his usual, curious, non-expression.

There was a subtle shift in the room which Dean felt. He straightened up and looked back towards Sam, and there it was, the original and still the best, Bitch-face #1 _How can we be related? Because my brother is an idiot_. 

"Yeah, Sammy?" Dean tried to keep his smirk under control.

"What did you do, Dean?"

"Nothing!"

A lift of the eyebrow and would you look at that, Sammy could segue right into Bitch-face #12 _Try again, idiot_

"I didn't.. it wasn't anything, Sammy."

"What did you break?"

" _I_ didn't break anything." Sometimes Dean really hated the way his brother made him feel like everything was all his fault. Those old things had been cracked and broken even before they hit the deck. So really he'd just been tidying up and old mess that should have been dealt with years ago. But Sam seemed even more judgemental since Dean's little detour into the dark-side of the force. And even though he knew it was wrong, it made him a little nostalgic for those months he's spent with Crowley. 

The guy might have been a slimy backstabbing demon, but he'd had Dean's back, had managed to keep him relatively straight. Been awesome back-up in a series of spectacular bar-fights. Not letting him kill innocent civilians, steering him towards the bad guys when it got to _that_ time of the month. When the mark started itching and Dean felt the need to kill. It was kind of sad to think that those few months were probably the happiest times Dean could remember in a long long while.

"So who did the breaking? Cas?" Sam was like a dog with a bone sometimes. And it wasn't even a little disturbing that Dean knew _exactly_ how that felt. 

"No Sam, I am not aware of breaking anything, but I believe Dean had just thrown the objects responsible into the waste receptacle when I was summoned here."

"It's nothing to worry about, honestly." Dean sighed, because it always stung like a son of a bitch whenever Cas forgot whose side he was meant to be on.  
It really was about as low as a person could go, when even a demon was better than your very own personal Angel of the Lord at having your back.

"Okay, now I'm officially worried. What. Did. You. Break, Dean?"

"I was just throwing out some old broken stuff I found, it's no big deal."

"Where did you find it?"

"In the library."

"Where in the library? Exactly?

"On the floor!"

Sam just growled in frustration

"By the back wall." Dean sighed.

Sam turned and strode off towards the library.

"Dean."

"........"  Dean was determined not to bite, Cas had to learn his lesson somehow, had to be reminded he was _Dean's_ angel. But Cas was the master of the awkward silence, and in the end Dean caved, "What is it, Cas?"

Cas took a step closer, then another, he was back in Dean's personal space. Dean held his breath, he wasn't sure why, but he felt like something was happening. But then Cas took another step and shuffled right past. He leaned towards the trash and said, "I should retrieve these." 

Dean moved away then, giving himself more space between them because it was obvious something was wrong. Something was off between him and Cas, had been for months. He hardly saw Cas at all now, and when he did there was a chasm of things unsaid separating them. Not that Dean wanted to _say_ things, because Hell no, he didn't. But not saying things just left him with a tight feeling in his throat where he choked all that stuff back inside. 

But for all that, it had felt like a stab in the back when Cas had sided with Sam just now, and that only served to show Dean just how much that distance had grown. Dean was glaring at nothing in particular, thinking his bitter little thoughts when he remembered the sharp edge of glass cutting his finger and the sticky drips of blood still falling, he said, "mind the..." 

At the same Cas said, "I always have your back Dean, even..." Like he was some kind of mind-reader, then there was a soft little gasp as Cas lifted the two halves of the bowl and the chipped glass back out of the trash, blood now dripping from his hand too.

"Let me."  
Dean reached for the whole mess, noticing the blood seemed to be pouring worse from Cas, looked like he'd cut his palm on the splintered edge of the bowl.

Their hands met.

Sticky fingers accidentally entwined and both the glass and the bowl clinked together and then fell. There was an odd _pouf_ when both objects hit the marble tiles of the kitchen floor and smashed.

Dean and Cas stared at the inexplicable sight of a small cloud of purple smoke rising up from the broken remains, then looked at each other, with twin expressions of resignation at the evidence of the latest supernatural fuck-up that was clearly about to royally kick their asses.

Sam came tearing back from the library shouting, "Whatever you do don't break the two of cups..."  
He stopped in the doorway, again, and Dean had the passing thought that maybe Sam's inability to come right into the room was a sign of some new kind of weird OCD.  
"Oops, well at least you haven't mingled your..."  
Sam sighed mightily, like the massive girl he was, and said, "Oh well that's just fantastic!"  
Glaring at their bleeding, accidentally entangled fingers, and their unintentionally mingled blood. 

 

Later, after the broken remains had been swept off the kitchen floor, by Sam dressed in Haz-mat gear. After the shards had been sealed inside some magically enhanced trash bags. Once it had all been incinerated in the basement, and who doesn't love a secret lair that comes with an eco-friendly magic-burning heating system that gives hours of heating and gallons of hot water powered by two magically enhanced drinking vessels? 

And finally, after Dean and Cas had both had their respective cuts anointed with non-magically-enhanced Neosporin, Sam explained about the two cups, one made of green ash and one of Lapis and Rose coloured Quartz, and the soul-bond they created.

Dean just wanted to pretend nothing had happened, put his hands over his ears and sing "La la la I can't hear you."

Cas seemed relatively stoic and un-surprised by the whole thing, but then Cas had been the one to bring up that whole _profound bond_ , from what Dean could recall all those years ago, when they first met.

Sam, of course, was determined to get to the bottom of the whole mess, dragging every last detail under the microscope and analyzing it to death. "So I get that Dean was doing his uncanny impression of someone who is still 60% demon. Throwing knives around in a _library_ for friggs sake! But how come you were here, Cas?"

"I believe Dean activated the Soul-mate beacon when he broke both the cups. But it was only primed to act for Dean once he had cut himself."

"Yeah, that makes sense, but how come it didn't just make him bond with the nearest person?"

"Sammy!" Dean cleared his throat and tried for a slightly more manly, "Sam. Think about what you're saying. _You_ were the nearest person!"

"Right. Uhmm, yeah... I mean no... We don't want to go there again... Uh _ever_... We don't _ever_ want to go there. So kudos to whoever set up this little curse that they built-in some kind of no-squick fail-safe." 

" _Squick_? Really, Sammy?" Sometimes Dean had to wonder if his Mom had just found Sam in a dumpster or something, because no-way were they related. 

"I believe you are mistaken Sam." Cas butted in, with his oh-so-polite voice of reason, "This is not a curse." Then again maybe God had found Cas in that same dumpster, because no-way was this anything but a curse, as far as Dean could tell.

"So what is it?" Sam was disturbingly eager, like a blood-hound on the scent of, well, blood.

"Once Dean had charged the beacon it merely summoned me to him to ensure the bond was permanently sealed." 

"Still not getting why you, Cas." Sam asked.

And then Dean found himself jumping in because obviously his little brother just wasn't asking the right questions. "What Sam is trying to say is, if some bad-guy, some _wizzard_ or witch, and you know how much I hate witches, sets this up to trap some unsuspecting....."

"Idiot's the word you're looking for, Dean."  
Sam never could keep his cake-hole shut.

Dean ignored him and continued. "Or, as in this case, some innocent party going about their legitimate business in the privacy of their own library. Okay the bad-guy has some kind of decency with the built-in Sam-excluding thing, but this still feels like a curse to me. I mean, if it had found some random attractive chick who just so happened to be my _soul-mate_ " Dean couldn't help choking on that particular word,  
"But this is definitely fucking with me bringing a dude here, so definitely a curse. Unless it's broken. If somehow the curse, or whatever it is, has been warped which maybe could explain the dude thing. But still it would be some _random dude._ But it saddled me with Cas. How did this magic trick, or what ever it is, how did it summon Cas, how did it even know who Cas is? Which just proves it is a curse, and it's totally meant to fuck with me, because seriously, Cas is the last person who could ever be my _soul-mate_ "

In retrospect, after the shit really hit the fan, Dean realized he could have worded that in a slightly kinder way.

 

~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

A few weeks later Dean was happily wielding his new hammer, the fires flickering in the background giving an almost cheery glow to the dark surrounding him. Dean had to admit the hammer was almost as satisfying to use as the first blade had been. He was just glad he'd managed to find a new hobby, now that knife-throwing had been totally forbidden inside the bunker. 

He had just reached the 33rd strike when the door opened letting in light and revealing Sam hovering in the doorway, like his interruption would somehow be less annoying if he didn't come all the way in.  
"Sorry to interrupt, Dean."

Dean ignored him and carried on, reigning blow after blow until he reached 42. Then he stopped and wiped his brow. It was hard work.

"Have to get the numbers right, Sammy. The correct number of blows is important with demons, you know?"

"Yes, I know."

"Says so right here in the book." Dean waved his hand at the book he had propped up in the corner where it wouldn't get stained or damaged.

"I know that because I gave you the book, Dean."

Dean turned back to the task in hand, he grabbed it and shoved it into the trough of water. It hissed and spat.

"Demons are a lot of work, Sam. You have to be precise if you want to kill them permanently."

Both of them looked down at Dean's handiwork, The red glow died away and it lay stiff and straight in the water-trough.

Dean's new hobby was even better than indoor knife-throwing. It still had the required combination of precision, repetition, concentration and violence, but now with added dead demons.

"I think you should call this one Sting."

Dean sighed as he pulled the now cooled dagger from the water and began to polish it. 

He had to hand it to his little brother for discovering the book on forging magical weapons. Specifically demon killing knives, silver swords that worked on werewolves and vampires and even angel blades. Although Dean wasn't sure they would need those anymore, not now Heaven had been restored and Cas was off rounding up all the stray angels. And then, bringing Dean down to the lower levels, past the shooting range and the garage area, and off a side corridor behind the boiler, that Dean had never noticed before, to the heavy lead-lined door that opened to reveal a forge, that was seriously cool. But Sam was never going to be allowed to name anything, ever. Especially not weaponry. 

"Yeah that's nice Sammy. And when we're naming a cake slice, or an egg whisk, I might consider it. But this is serious. This is metal. Names like Robert or Bon, Bruce or even Brian would be cool. But never _Sting_. How are you even my brother?"

Sam shook his head. "It's from Lord of the Rings, Dean."

"I don't care what album it's off, we are not naming a demon-killer blade after some light-weight from a Brit-Pop trio."

"It's not Brit-Pop, you neanderthal!" 

"It's not happening, Sammy."

Sam took a deep breath and reminded himself why he had come down to see Dean in the first place. "Call it what you like, Dean. I actually wanted to talk to you about something important."

Dean began the slow, soothing process of sharpening the blade on the whetstone, but he could listen at the same time. "Oh yeah?"

"Yes. I found out some more about the Soul-bond."

"Son of a bitch!"  
Dean's finger had slipped, but luckily the blade wasn't sharp yet so he didn't cut himself. 

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Dean sighed and put the blade aside. "Maybe we should go upstairs for this. I have a feeling I'm gonna need a beer or ten."

Once they were upstairs, sat in the Library and Dean had a beer open and half drunk, Sam continued.

"I didn't have time when this first happened to check the archives."

Dean nodded, "Yeah Cas disappeared and then it was like someone had lit the Bat Signal for demons. Three straight weeks of crazy."

"Yes, almost like there was a connection."

"Except we agreed that curse thing had gone wrong, so it's just a coincidence." Dean said, then downed the rest of his first beer and opened the second. He ignored Sam's look of displeasure, because forging magical blades was hot thirsty work.

"Yes, so you said. But I think that you jumped to that conclusion a little hastily. You arrived at the solution before we knew all the relevant facts."

"There was only one relevant fact I needed to know, soul-mate+dude+Cas=NEVER. That's the only solution to those facts." 

Sam picked up a book and opened it then turned it so it was facing Dean, then another and a couple more, until there were books spread all over the table in front of him.  
Sam pointed to the first book. "This talks about the meaning of the Two of Cups. The lovers entwined." 

There were even little drawings, Dean noticed all of them showed couples in various embraces. None showed a drawing of a guy and his dude, Angel buddy. He was about to point this out but Sam was in lecture mode.

"I realise the illustrations only show one type of soul-bond, but don't forget many books were heavily censored in the past. Even the source materials the Men of Letters Gathered was subject to the same kinds of Hetro-normative stereotypical assumptions of the times they lived in."

"Care to translate for the people who aren't college professors, Einstein?"

"Soul-bonds are metaphysical, they may involve a romantic, physical attachment but equally they may be more spiritual than physical and sex is never a factor."

Dean frowned. Sure he was going through a bit of a dry spell lately, but even so, the thought that there was no more sex. That him and his soul-mate or bond, once they got it to work correctly and found the right person, the right chick, that he was meant to be with for life, but then they wouldn't be getting it on, ever. That didn't sound like something he'd ever want. Hell if he wasn't getting any more action in this life he might just as well be bonded to Cas.

There was a slight disturbance in the air pressure of the room behind him. Dean would recognise it anywhere. He tipped his head back and yeah, just like leaning against a brick wall, his own Angel of the lack of personal space. "Hey Cas, long time no see. Sit down." 

Dean hooked his foot in front of the chair next to his and pushed it away from the table, then he opened another bottle of beer, slid it over and said. "Have a beer. You're gonna need it, Sam's giving us the Soul-Mate 101."

"Thank you for the beer, Dean. It is a generous gift."

"We're family, Cas. My beer is your beer, just keep your mitts off my JD and we'll be fine."

Cas glanced down, Dean wasn't sure but he thought there might have been a little smile flickering at the corner of his mouth, but then it was gone and Cas raised the beer and took a drink.

Dean couldn't wait any longer. "So, Cas. What's been happening? You never call, you never write. You've been gone since this whole soul thing started. I'd have thought you'd be keen to get this thing over with."

"I have returned as soon as you summoned me, Dean."

"I never...."

"Dean!" Sam interrupted him, "Don't say anything else!" 

"Look, Sammy I may not be the smart one here, but..."

"Dean, shut up! Do, Not Say. Another. Word."  
Sam stabbed at the second book he'd put in front of Dean, and continued. "This explains about the way the bond affects the individuals involved."

"But Sam..."

"I know a spell to make you shut-up and I'm not afraid to use it, Dean."

Dean mimed zipping his lip and throwing away the key.

"This book explains the properties of the vessels. One cup made of Lapis and Rose Quartz. Lapis is a symbol of the connection between the physical and celestial, a bringer of clarity in communication and protection and healing from past trauma and love and fidelity in any union. Rose quartz summons true love. The green Ash cup is a symbol of the connection between heaven and earth and is a beacon to find true love. Dean you broke the green ash bowl and set the beacon to bring your.."

"Do not say it, Sammy. Don't you dare! There is no way this is anything other than a mistake. There is no way. It's wrong that's all. Wrong!"

"I know it must be hard, having to admit to something you've hidden. But all the signs are there, Dean."

"No, Sam. It's not hard at all."

"I know different, Dean. I know that you always felt like you had to be just like Dad, that you had to follow his lead in everything. That you had to agree with the way the saw things."

"I don't see what Dad's got to do with this, I'm just trying to correct this weird mistake before anyone gets hurt."

"Dad has everything to do with this, Dean. It's where you get your stupid ideas about how you're supposed to act all macho. About what a real Hunter is supposed to be. But what if it's not a mistake?"

"Sam, you're making this very hard when really, it's very simple."  
Dean turned to Cas.

Cas had that weird expression once more. Seeing it again made Dean think it was a little like fear but also half longing and maybe something else he couldn't really name, something angelic perhaps, or weirdly childlike. And now Dean was really looking at him he noticed Cas looked a little rough around the edges, Like he hadn't been taking such good care of himself. A little how he'd looked when he was low on grace. Dean made a note of this, he'd have to find out what was going on with Cas, once he got this mess out of the way,

"Wait!" Sam was stabbing his fingers at the third book he'd laid open, but Dean ignored him. He needed to get this said before anyone else, like Cas, got hold of the wrong end of the stick.

"Look Cas, I don't believe in all this _one true love_ crap, That stuff is for chicks. But even if I did believe in it I'm just not into you like that. You're a dude so no way are you my one true love." 

The beer bottle Cas had been holding before he disappeared, dropped the foot and a half back to the table top and toppled sideways spilling beer over one of Sam's precious books. At the same time the map table went crazy with alarms going off all over the place, and then the sirens went off in the bunker and it was all that Dean and Sam could do to rush around and stop the bunker going into lock-down.

 

~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~

 

Some weeks later, after the 100th demon plot had been foiled, Dean was soaking the 2nd batch of long overdue laundry in salt water, trying to get the blood-stains out. He wondered, not for the first time, why no one in the hunting game had come up with the idea of a cleaning service for hunters. The blood and gore, not to mention the greasy ectoplasm stains, were a nightmare to remove.

He imagined idly that would be one of the benefits of having Cas as his soul-mate, help with all the bloodstains. Cas always seemed stain free, and his shirt was always neatly pressed. Dean thought it would be nice to have some one to help out. 

There was a waft of air behind him. It was probably the drier cycle finishing. It was a nice thought having Cas here to help with the washing and stuff, but it was totally unrealistic because Cas wasn't his soul-mate. Dean didn't even notice the flutter of displaced air as Cas disappeared again. 

Dean sighed as the alarms went off again. Seemed like the demon population didn't want him to get the laundry done.

 

~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~

It was another week before Dean got back to finish the laundry.

Once he got the final load into the washer he headed back to his room, he was half way through a novel he'd picked up after Sam had finished with it earlier that week. To be honest it wasn't Dean's taste at all, something called a Harlequin Romance, but they had been so busy with the crazy demon activity that he was quite enjoying the mindless drivel just for the contrast. 

He didn't even need his normal outlet at the moment, his real life was providing sufficient violent repetition and concentration what with all the demons he was killing lately. So a little bit of fluff, and a whole load of petty irritation was welcome change of pace. Because the plot, such as it was, consisted of the stupid _Hero_ continually missing the point, and missing his love interest, because he was too busy chasing after something else, or looking the other way at the wrong moment. It was so unlikely it had Dean laughing out loud on occasion.

He was half way through the latest chapter, some nonsense about miscommunication and crossed wires, when there was a knock on his door before pushed was it open.

"Hey Dean." Sam said, hovering in the doorway.

Dean looked up from his book and frowned, Sam definitely seemed to have a thing about doorways now. "You can come in you know."

"No, I didn't want to disturb you."

"Okay." Dean buried himself in the book again.

"But, I did want to check..."

Dean looked up, a tiny little tick started up in the corner of his eye. Sam was acting weird again. "Oh yeah?"

"Are you enjoying the book?"

"What this book?" Dean held it up, "The one you keep stopping me from reading?"

"Yeah, it's good, right?"

"Hmm" Dean had gone back to reading, trying to ignore Sam's weirdness in the hopes it would go away. 

"But that hero, Max."

Dean had to laugh then because, yeah, "Oh my God, what a tool!"

"I know." Sam was smirking too.

"It's like someone needs to hit this guy with a clue-bat, before one of us dies!"

"Tell me about it!"

"He has no idea," Dean was still laughing

"None whatsoever."

"It's a really frustrating plot device."

"Try living it for real." Sam muttered.

"What's that, Sammy?"

"Oh, nothing much."

Dean returned to his book, but he couldn't get back into it, something was bothering him. He looked up and Sam was still there, hovering in the doorway, looking like he has something to say.

"Spit it out, Sam." 

"I just wondered if you'd seen Cas at all?"

"No."

"Huh."

Dean sighed and closed the book. Sam wasn't going to give up, that much was obvious. Maybe they just needed to get this conversation over once and for all. Maybe the sooner Dean started it the sooner it would be over, so he asked. "So I take it you have any more to say about this soul-mate crap?"

"Yes I do."

"Well go right ahead. It's only my life we're dissecting after all."

"Dean!"

"Sam!"

With a put upon sigh, Sam carried on. "It's just every time we start talking about this, you fly off the handle."

"Yeah, what can I say? I hate all this feelings stuff, you know that."

"But you can't let this go on."

"It's not hurting anyone, to be honest I'd be happy if we never mention it again."

"What about Cas?"

It was very frustrating that Sam couldn't leave it alone, and Dean snapped, "What about Cas? He's my _soul-mate_? Is that what you want to hear me to say?" 

There was a thump from the corner of the room behind Dean. Cas seemed to have appeared and then slumped against the wall. Sam was already headed towards him as Dean twisted around on the bed and got up. They both reached Cas at the same time. The guy looked like someone had wiped the floor with him. 

He was pale, much paler than usual and his lips weren't just dry they were cracked and a little raw looking. He was breathing raggedly and his clothes were rumpled and frayed in places. Worse of all he had a slight tremor, like he was shaking continually.

"Sit here." Sam helped Cas to the bed.

"Here you look like you need a drink." Dean quickly poured a glass of Jack and held it out to Cas.

Cas took the glass, with a whispered thank you. But his had was shaking and Dean had to sit beside him and hold onto the glass to steady it for Cas to take a sip.

"What happened? Dean asked.

Cas shrugged. "It's nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing. Do I need to kick someone's ass for this?" Dean growled.

"I'd pay to see _that_." Sam muttered to himself.

Cas gave Sam a look that might have been smiting, if he'd been in better health, but he only said "It will pass, Dean."

"Are you having as much trouble as we are with demons?"

Cas just shook his head and drank a little more bourbon.

"Is it this soul-bond? Is it hurting you? Goddamn it, why didn't you say something?"

"HE CAN'T." Sam shouted.

"What? Cas? Why can't you say anything?"

"Can't say." 

"Is this killing you?" Dean asked quietly, "because it looks like it is."

"Can't say." Cas said again, softly.

Dean stared at Cas for a moment, and he could see it all now, the fear in his eyes, the hope that Dean would get it, the belief that Dean would know what to do to help him. Dean stared up at the ceiling, like maybe that was where the curse had come from, and shouted.  
"Right, I've had enough of this curse. This bond does not exist. Leave Cas alone because he is not my soul-mate."

There was a moment of silence then the glass Cas had been holding fell to the floor as he disappeared. Then lights went out all over the bunker as the main siren went off. 

Sam and Dean stumbled out of Dean's room and ran down the corridor, now lit by the glow of emergency lighting. By the time they hit the library the phones were all ringing and every demon hot spot on the map had erupted. Neither Dean nor Sam had time to worry about the fact that this time when Cas had disappeared the trench coat and his suit jacket, tie and shoes had been left on the bed.

 

~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~~~

 

It was another four weeks of non-stop demon mortal combat and Dean was finally done with killing for a while. He was seriously over it. If the alarms went off he'd let some other hunters deal with it. 

But between the bludgeoning and the stabbing, the salting and the burning Dean had realised something rather important. He didn't even have to finish reading _The Made to Order Wife_ to realise he had missed the obvious flaw in all his arguments. He just had to hope he wasn't too late.

Later that afternoon Sam found him in the forge, luckily for him Dean had already finished and was putting everything away. The blade he had made was already wrapped in some cloth he'd found, so all Sam could do was peer at the vague shape of it from the doorway.

"So, Dean, what ya doing?"

"Just tying up."

"Okay." Sam hovered in the doorway some more. Finally he cracked and had to ask, "What's the new blade for?"

"It's an Angel Blade." Dean said as he picked it up and headed out of the room, Sam trailing along behind him.

"Really?"

"Yeah." 

"What do you need an Angel Blade for?"

"To put an end to this curse."

"No, no, no that's not how it's supposed to end, Dean."

"Hey, Sam. Have a little faith, huh?"

"But Dean..."

Dean ignored him as he grabbed the things he needed from the kitchen then headed towards his room.

"Dean, can we at least talk about this?" Sam was staring at the trash bag Dean has collected from the kitchen, he wasn't getting the message, that Dean had finally _got_ the message.

"I've read all your books Sam. Even Max got it in the end of his book, and so do I. Now I want to put this curse to bed once and for all, and I'd like to do it in the privacy and comfort of my own room. So be a good little brother and scram. Go find a nice comfy archive, grab a good book, plug your little earphones in and listen to some of that nice Brit pop you seem to enjoy so much, I've got an Angel to sort out." 

 

Once Dean closed the door to his room he emptied the trash bag out onto his bed. He'd already put everything he needed in there. He even put an LP on his record player. Not Zep this time, and here was a secret of his Sam was never going to know, Dean had discovered some smooth Jazz records in the Bunker, and he'd come to appreciate it was pretty cool music, when you wanted to set a certain mood.

The candles were lit the music was playing softly in the background, Dean had a two glasses of JD poured and the blade was unwrapped. He smiled to himself, and thought that the condemned man was entitled to a last drink. But then he knocked back his shot of Jack, just one for courage, then refilled the glass before he spoke quietly.

"Hey Cas, I really need to see you."

Nothing happened.

Dean sighed, he'd known it wasn't going to be that _easy_.

"Cas, I admit it, everyone, even Sam, was right. You are my soul-mate and I just need you to come back to me this last time."

There was a sigh and a flump and there he was, dropped onto Dean's bed like a sack of laundry. And he really did look terrible. To be honest he looked like he might already be dead anyway. His skin had a sallow pallor to it, and his cheeks were sunken in, dark circles around his closed eyes and his lips were bitten and almost blue in colour. His shirt was grubby and wrinkled and the ever present tie was missing. 

All in all Cas looked really horrible and now Dean knew it was all his fault. He'd let his friend suffer like this for weeks. But at least he was going to put an end to it now.

Dean picked up the Angel Blade in one hand, and grabbed Cas' hand and wrapped it around the hilt of the blade with his own, then pressed it to his chest.

"Hey Cas, you're here now and I'd like it if you'd open your eyes."

There was a brief flutter and then slowly Cas looked up at him.

"Hey buddy, I'm sorry it took me so long to figure it out."

"Dean."

"Yeah, Cas."

"Do what you must, Dean. I understand." Cas let his eyes close.

But Dean wasn't having that, he wasn't going to do this alone. So he nudged Cas and squeezed his hand where they were both holding the blade. "Do you feel this?"

Cas opened his eyes, and another strange expression crossed his face.

"I made this for you, Cas."

His fingers tightened around the hilt, Cas frowned and asked, " _You_ made it?"

"Yeah. I figured it was appropriate."

"I suppose some might think so, yes."

Dean squeezed his hand some more and when Cas focused on him again he added, "Maybe even romantic?"

"Hmm, maybe if you were of a certain disposition it could be considered romantic."

"Well as it's my present to you and I made it, even stuck jewels and stuff in it, I am of that disposition and I do consider it romantic."

"Jewels?"

"Lapis lazuli and Green Agate."

"And Stuff?"

"My silver ring."

"So?"

"So?"

"May I see this gift you made for me?"

Dean pulled back and let Cas see the blade.

Cas stared for a long time, then his finger traced hesitantly over the pattern of Dean's ring, where it was embedded in the hilt, then over the polished stones that adorned it. Then he said, "It is very beautiful, thank you Dean."

Dean stared down at Cas. He didn't understand why he still looked so poorly.

"It isn't working. Cas why isn't it working?"

"You have to..."

And Dean had known, he'd just somehow hoped him thinking it, and wishing it would be enough, but no this curse would not be satisfied with some half-assed attempt to get round it. He swallowed, tasting the bourbon in his mouth, a reminder of his dutch courage, and he did it. He leaned close. He closed his eyes.

He pressed his lips to Cas' lips and then he said, "It's my wedding gift to you Cas. So the bond is now complete."

Outside the door Dean heard Sam's muttered, "At last! Thank fucking Christ!"

But inside his room there was a soft glow and Cas was restored to his normal self, no longer pale and wan and wasting away, and here was a sweet kind of softness to his blue eyes as he looked back up at Dean and then grabbed him and pulled him down for a proper wedding kiss, with tongue, and it wasn't no church tongue either. And Dean thought that maybe married life wouldn't be so bad after all.

 

The End


End file.
